Denabear Time

Join me on #MyMentalIllnessJourney where I’m #KillingPTSDErryDay from the effects of Childhood Neglect, Molestation, Rape, Sexual Assault During Military Service, Traumatic Brain Injuries, Constant Anxiety, Deep Depression with my #420GoodVibesforVets, #CocoaBeachKetoQueenness my awesome man the #CocoaBeachNativeChiroBoy constantly by my side, and a deep seeding unwillingness to give up!

My stage in therapy these days? Rewriting my resentment story about momster. Man is it fucking hard. Not only am I dealing with the constant issues with her…i.e. texting her to tell her I love her. I’m such a masochist. In spite of everything, I get nothing but radio silence back. So, I’m not putting anymore of my effort into her. I’m actively rewriting my story. I used the monies returned to me to open up the Denabear, LLC business checking account. Thanks Momster for the support! I had to take a break for a few days from the blog to attend to some personal business. I finally came forward with my #MeToo moment. It’s something that completely derailed my life. When a friend is no longer a friend but an assaulter. It has taken the wind out of my sails the last few days and I am one that needs to recharge my batteries by taking time away to do for myself. But I must not let this get me down. Damn the Man! Save the Empire!

Yoga has become my new Self Love focus. As you can probably tell in my previous post. I’ve been doing a lot of meditating and being “in self” during my practices. All of these are foreign concepts. I battle with the nasty snarls of my inner beast. She criticizes every little thing I do. Yoga is helping me learn to quiet her. My newest hobbies? 1. Making time for quiet. 2. Learning to like being with myself and my thoughts. I used to think these were hobbies for people with no life. I used to wonder how a person could WANT to have time for such things? You’re never supposed to stop going DAMMIT! YOU CAN SLEEP WHEN YOU’RE DEAD! There was a more recent time that I was scared to be with my own thoughts. The inner beast had been winning arguments. Perpetuating the cycle of self loathing. To battle it I would constantly inundated myself with aural stimulation. Allowing external stimuli to drive my mood: Podcasts, music, binge watching old sitcoms from the 90s. Anything to drown out the negative self talk. As of late, I’m finding peace in the quiet instead of in a consistent din like I’m used to. I’ve come to a realization. Part of changing my resentment story is finding what I can be thankful for. Other than the regs shit. Ya know, Momster giving me life and all that. The “I brought you into this world, I’ll take you out of it” ringing in my ears. I need something more than that to cling too. A hidden gift. Yoga has opened my eyes to the wonderful potential I have of a bright future. It’s also allowing me to give thanks for my past. It’s been in front of me all along. I’m thankful for the opportunity to have had the outlet for my pent-up frustrations and anger in Martial Arts. I’m sure I’ll find more to be thankful for…this is a process. Stop criticizing me for going so slow. Geez!

For a self-proclaimed Alexithymic,…For the record, I’m literally being taught my feelings in therapy. I have no connection with self. I feel I have the right to label myself this based on my trauma. BT…”Before Therapy”….I was in tune with my happy feelings. That’s about it. I still get fear and anger interchanged all the time. I’ve worked up to being able to identify three well. When they’re happening now too! Anger is a feeling that I’ve just recently become acquainted with. I’ve been told much throughout my life that I come across angry. I always shrugged it off thinking people didn’t know what they were talking about. What was there to be angry about in childhood? I had no right. Or did I? In practicing Tang Soo Do, I was forced to meditate in a time of my life that, let’s be honest,… I didn’t know why the fuck I was doing it. I thought it was to slow our heart rate or something after practice. Nothing more. Forced meditation…I still remember how hard it was for me to quiet my mind for that short amount of time. Counting the seconds on the dojo clock. Another upside to all of this, by keeping my body in seemingly athletic motion (not saying I was athletic at all, I was a little fat ass…but muscle memory is muscle memory) when I’d get injured they’d go unseen for the most part when they happened. I played them off.

Fast forward to today. I have a grade 2 spondylolisthesis of the L5, sacralization of the lowest lumbar, and some degenerative discs in my neck. Today, I refuse to take pain pills even though I’m in pain every motha fuckin day. Today, I recognize I have the brain of an addict, but the knowledge and power to stay away from such things. Today, there’s an opioid crisis. Today, going to doctors and complaining about back pain automatically puts you in a category of a potential addict looking for pills. I’ve been a doormat long enough and this is something I will not stand for. I refuse to give in to a healthcare system that is broken because of doctors over prescribing pills when all I’m looking for is a diagnosis. The diagnosis above is from my chiropractor. An “alternative medicine.” My doctor remains ignorant to my conditions. Let me get off my healthcare soapbox for another post.

What caused this Denabear? I know you’re dying to know? Was it the car accident with Henry?!? Nope! Childhood injury then worsened by the car accident.

I’m not sure of the exact year. My faithful sidekick Bradley thinks it was my 11 or 12th bday…I was thinking 9 or 10th. Close enough for a mission to mars. Right?…Anyhoodles! Here’s what happened. We were all jumping on the trampoline. Someone decided to do that thing where you jump someone up really high by planting your legs down when you land. Know what I’m talkin’ about generation trampoliner’s? I was jumped so high that I lost my center of balance. I came down on my back. My lower back to be specific. My legs landed on the trampoline with my head dangling over the octagonal side. My spine had landed perpendicular to the bar. Instinct told me to grab the bar underhanded, kick my legs over and get on my feet. My parents were watching from the window the whole time. Holding their breath when they saw what was unfolding. My dad said when he saw my feet hit the ground, and I wasn’t paralyzed, he stopped to thank the skies for my martial arts training. He credited my instinct to my training. Now looking back I do to. I walked it off I was never checked out.

It wasn’t until 2013 that the injury was found on an xray by an extremely thorough chiropractor. I had spent years on and off complaining about my back with nothing to show for it. Yet he still gets no credit for his work. My now wonderful chiropractor fiancé puts endless hours in to get me get healthy and his diagnosis won’t be put on my charts. I thank my fiancé for the chances he has been able to bestow on my healing process. It is because of him I can walk and function like a semi-normal human being. Whatever the fuck that means anyway.

The meditation and flexibility that I practiced during martial arts is coming back to me full force and now with a new-found intention in my yoga practice. I really overlooked how much this kept me sane as a kid! Why did I stop? Of course you the eager readers want to know! I stuck with it a little Freshman year of high school, but by sophomore year we were broke up! I was an International Baccalaureate student. Ain’t nobody got time for nuttin’ but homework. Homework, taking care of my brother and some misdirected attention to boyfriends. I was desperate for the attention I wasn’t getting at home. Oh yea,…I quit karate and turned to crown royal in the same year.

I’ve wisened up enough to identify what things I do day-to-day that serve me. And those that don’t. Alcohol and I have a sticky past. We’ve finally come to terms with each other. Food has always had a hold on me as well. Stitch of bulimia here. Stent of anorexia there. Some bingeing and purging. Insane dieting. Crazy workouts. Check. Check. Check. Over it. I was tired of fearing food 24/7. My fear wasn’t serving anything but my anxiety. I slow down; listen to me and ask me what do I need? The answer is never a drink, a food, or a pill. It’s more likely that something inside needs my undivided attention just for a moment so that I can process and move on.

This process of slowing down in a world that is doing nothing but speeding up fills me with anxiety. I feel like a fish constantly swimming against the current. This journey is a rough one. It’s the extra challenging one that come back ten fold. Or something fucking like that right?


Spread Some Good Vibes Peeps!
Next post will be from Washington, DC where I’ll be at the annual Rolling Thunder POW/MIA ride!

One thought on “Slowing Down in a Fast Paced World

  1. Tara Lynn says:

    Glad to see that you’ve only become more insane and disillusioned over the years. Ready to wreck lives and bring people to your level whenever the chance comes up. Those who’ve seen the real you don’t fall for your bullshit FYI. Hope this bullshit of a blog helps you to sleep at night and pretend you aren’t a fucked up human being. Keep lying to yourself, that’s fine but quit trying to take people down with you.

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